


river of insufferable sin

by dustofwarfare



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest, but only on Ravus's side, dubious-consent, manipulative!Ardyn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 11:22:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustofwarfare/pseuds/dustofwarfare
Summary: “Stop,” Ravus entreats desperately, fingers shaking as they curl into the fabric of Ardyn’s coat. He feels lost, adrift in some turbulent sea, unsure if Ardyn is a lifeboat meant to save him or a monster straight from the deep, intent on dragging him under the water to drown.





	river of insufferable sin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cerberusia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/gifts).



> Written as a pinch-hit for the Consent Issues Fic Exchange for Cerberusia! The prompt was Ardyn/Ravus, Ardyn manipulating Ravus into sex after learning about Ravus's incestuous feelings for Lunafreya. Set pre-canon. 
> 
> **Content Advisory:** dubious-consent and incest/incest fantasy (though it's one-sided as far as Ravus/Lunafreya) and there's _maybe_ the _slightest_ hint of Ardyn/Somnus if you blink, but it's very subtle.
> 
>  **Please be advised of the nature of this fic and consider the content as noted. If it bothers you, don't read it. Thanks!**
> 
> The fic is predicated on the tidbit of info that Ravus was the one who introduced the Plan to Steal the Lucian Crystal (TM) to the Emperor, even though it was, of course, Ardyn's idea all along. I hope you enjoy this, Cerberusia! Ardyn/Ravus is my beloved fucked up OTP so this prompt was right up my alley :D 
> 
> Title from the Brown Bird song, "Down to the River." Thanks to M for the beta!

 

___________

 

Ravus has complicated feelings about his ancestral home. 

On the one hand, Fenestala is the family seat and the place where he spent sixteen years of an idyllic and charmed childhood; but it’s also the place where all his confidence in the gods, the future, and his family’s allegiance to the line of Lucis fell alongside his mother. 

Now, it is the place where his sister, the Oracle, resides. Lunafreya is ostensibly kept there for her protection, but even Ravus cannot deny the truth. His sister is the very definition of a political prisoner, escorted by empty-eyed MTs and dispassionate Imperial troops when she sets forth to heal as her duties require. 

Ravus loves his sister, and the oaths he has taken to the Empire are all on her behalf to keep her safe. But he finds it uncomfortable to visit with her, to sit in his mother’s favorite salon and drink tea, Lunafreya’s eyes burning with the quiet recriminations she will never say, and his own words of apology caught like trapped things in his throat. 

At night he lies in the bed that has been his since he left the nursery, thinking of how lovely his sister looks amid the cool blue and icy whites of the manor’s interior. He thinks about her small smile, feels the soft touch of her hand on his arm, and hates himself for the pain she can never quite hide when she sees him decked out in his military regalia. It has been years since they last quarreled over his allegiances, and he knows it is not because she has finally accepted that pledging himself into the service of the army that conquered their homeland was the right thing to do. It is simply resignation that he is as stubborn and she, and nothing she could ever say will accomplish what she truly wants; him to abandon his duties as Brigadier General and journey to Insomnia, so that he might prostrate himself before the coward of a King who long ago left them to rot. 

Ravus will go back to Insomnia, and he will see it burn to ash around Regis -- just as Regis watched when Tenebrae fell, and did nothing but turn tail and run away. This time there will be nowhere for Regis -- or his son -- to escape. 

But this is not anything he can discuss with Lunafreya, especially now. Several months ago, the Imperial Chancellor paid Ravus a visit to discuss a plan that would bring Ravus his vengeance and his sister her freedom -- for how could the Empire justify keeping her prisoner if Lucis was no longer anything but a memory? 

The plan is sound, but there is one aspect Ravus does not like at all; it requires his sister to be engaged to Noctis. Though he has the Imperial Chancellor’s word of honor that the marriage will never take place, the very thought rankles, curdling his blood like milk left too long in the sun. 

_ It is simply a necessity to allow us access beyond the Wall, nothing more,  _ Chancellor Izunia said, when Ravus balked.  _ Believe me when I tell you that your sister and Noctis Lucis Caelum will never in this life be joined in marriage.  _

The Chancellor sent Ravus on this trip for the express purpose of bringing up the idea to Lunafreya, as he is under the impression she will agree if it is her brother who suggests it. Ravus knows she would do so without hesitation; not only because of the proposed idea of peace between Niflheim and Lucis, but for other, more secret reasons that enrage him too much to think about. 

Noctis is not worthy of Lunafreya; not of her bravery, her beauty, her cleverness, or the god-touched gifts that are hers by divine right. And though this marriage may be a sham that will never happen, Ravus cannot force himself to speak the words necessary to introduce the idea. So he spends his visit with her speaking of nothing at all, a thousand things unsaid between them, and a sleepless night spent tossing and turning in his bed. 

In the morning she gives him a kiss on the cheek, her lips warm and silk-soft. “Be well, brother,” she says. “And be safe.” Despite her smile there’s an ache in her voice that she cannot - or perhaps  _ will  _ not -- hide. 

_ Lunafreya, if it meant a chance for peace, would you agree to marry Noctis and become Queen of Lucis?  _ It’s all he need say, and the plan will be set in motion as per the Chancellor’s design. 

“You as well, Lunafreya,” is all Ravus says before he leaves. 

 

***

The Chancellor requests his presence the day after he returns from his visit home, and Ravus -- though he is an army officer and does not fall under Izunia’s direct command -- knows he cannot refuse the summons. 

Izunia sought him out personally several months ago, enlisting Ravus’s aid with a plan that would, in his words,  _ prove our military supremacy to Lucis and end this war once and for all.  _ His reasoning for wanting to see the conflict come to an end was that the war was expensive, costly in both resources and lives. As Chancellor, Izunia explained, he would like to see the money and manpower of the Empire focused on improving the lives of its citizens at home, not wasted in a drawn-out war that was, despite the Empire’s MTs and recent land acquisitions, at something of a stalemate. The truth was, the war would not end until Insomnia fell, and Insomnia would not fall until the Wall did. That, according to Izunia, would only happen from within the Crown City, not without. 

Ravus did not for a moment believe Izunia’s platitudes about the people and domestic tranquility. But he did recognize an ally when he saw one, and allies were something Ravus was most assuredly in need of. He’d never been entirely accepted by the Niflheim elite in the army because of his Tenebraen blood. They did not trust an officer who came to them out of defeat, thought his noble status was earning him favors that Ravus, if he cared at all what they thought, could have assured them was not true in the least. 

He assumed Izunia’s attempts to garner his assistance came from a desire for power, perhaps even a bid of his own to take the throne. Ravus couldn't care less; if it brought ruin to Insomnia and House Caelum, that was enough for him to agree. Izunia had the power and prestige, as well as the cunning, to see the plan through. All that was necessary was for Ravus to propose it to the Emperor. It would prove Ravus’s loyalty once and for all, Izunia said, and gain the backing of the army that they would need to see the plan to its end.

“And of course,” Izunia said, in his that smooth voice of his, “it does hinge on your sister’s acceptance, as she is much beloved and no one on either side would be comfortable forcing her into a political marriage. You are the most likely choice to present the idea to her, and it will go a long way with Iedolas if you have already secured her approval.” 

This is the third time Ravus has gone to visit Lunafreya, ostensibly to gain said approval. And it is the third time he must report back that he did not attain it, simply because he has yet to ask. The first time Ravus made his report, Izunia seemed understanding, as if he knew that Ravus would have a hard time masking his general dislike of the Caelums enough to satisfactorily convince his sister the marriage was a good idea. The second, he’d seemed a bit exasperated at Ravus’s excuse that his sister had been tired from healing and out of sorts, and therefore hardly in the mood to bring up something as weighty as becoming Queen of Lucis. 

This time, he has no excuse and he knows it; he does not expect the meeting will go well. Ravus attires himself in his finery, everything clean and polished and shining, and buckles his sword to his belt.

Then makes his way to the Chancellor’s residence in Zegnautus as if heading toward the gallows, wondering if this will be the end of his tenure in the Imperial Army. 

If nothing else, at least it will make Lunafreya happy. 

 

***

 

“So, let me see if I understand. Your sister, the esteemed Oracle, Lady Lunafreya, was not under the weather, tired from healing, or in a mood that would prohibit her from making an informed decision about her future.” Chancellor Izunia regards him from his spot by the window, a smile on his face that does not reach his cut-glass bright gold eyes. “And yet, for some reason,  _ once again  _ you have failed to do the simple task I have assigned for you. Brigadier General, you do realize you were only granted leave because you were meant to discuss a potential marriage with your sister, yes?” 

“Yes, Your Excellency,” Ravus says, hands behind his back. Outside, night has fallen over Gralea. It’s cold -- as it always is -- and there’s a light pattering of rain smeared against the window. Ravus focuses on the shapes of the drops against the glass, rather than the Chancellor. Something about Izunia has always unsettled him, despite the man’s apparent friendliness and attempts at allyship. 

For a man who dresses so flamboyantly and in an array of clashing patterns of mismatched colors, he looks oddly at home with darkness at his back. 

“I was under the impression that you were in agreement with me, that this war should come to a swift and decisive end, and that your rather personal dislike of the line of Lucis meant you could be counted on to lend your assistance,” the Chancellor says. His accent is strange, foreign in a way that Ravus cannot place. It’s closer to his own than, say, those who grew up in the Empire’s capital city...but it reminds Ravus of someone else, someone whose voice he has not heard in years. 

( _ A voice telling his son to run, dragging Ravus’s sister by the hand until she pulled away and came back through the smoke, returning to Ravus’s side where she belonged _ .) 

“I am, Your Excellency.” 

“Interesting that you would say that, and yet. This is the -- second, is it? -- time you have stood before me to tell me you did not ensure your sister’s agreement to marry Noctis Lucis Caelum.” 

The name makes Ravus wince before he can stop himself. As does the thought he is going to have to correct Chancellor Izunia, because -- as the man very well knows -- it is not the second time. “The third, Your Excellency.” 

“Ah, yes. Have you been having second thoughts, perhaps?” Chancellor Izunia’s voice turns sly. “Have you decided your allegiances lie elsewhere?” 

_ My allegiances lie where they always have. With my sister, and the ashes of my mother.  _ “Of course not, Your Excellency.” 

There’s silence for a few long moments, and then the Chancellor sighs. “Oh, Ravus. What on earth am I to do with you?” 

Ravus blinks; the Chancellor has never referred to him by his given name, before. “I surmise you will have me court martialed for failure to follow orders, Your Excellency.” 

“We both know I have no authority to give you any orders whatsoever,” the Chancellor says, moving closer. “And I can hardly have you arrested for a failing to do something no one knows about, can I? Ravus, look at me.  _ At  _ me, not over my shoulder or out the window.” 

Ravus lifts his chin slightly and focuses his gaze on the Chancellor, who is standing now right in front of him. Chancellor Izunia is a tall man, Ravus’s height -- which is unusual, there aren’t many men who are -- and broad-shouldered, especially with his bizarre pile of clothing. 

“I think there is some underlying reason why you refuse to mention this to your dear sister,” Izunia says, and takes off his ever-present hat. He tosses it carelessly aside, and Ravus sees it land on the edge of one of the chairs. Izunia’s hair is a shocking violet, a color Ravus cannot imagine is natural but which is the same shade as the slight stubble on his face, so it must be. 

Trust the man to have hair as garish as the rest of him. 

“And I think that reason must be one of two things. One,” he says, holding up a finger -- he wears leather fingerless gloves, an add choice for a man who must be in his forties, though his exact age is a source of some mystery. “You think I am secretly a Lucian spy.” 

“I -- absolutely not, Your Excellency,” Ravus says, because to even imply such a thing would be tantamount to an accusation of treason, the consequences of which would be dire for them both. 

Besides, Ravus has hated Lucis and its royal family long enough to recognize the Chancellor’s own dislike is not feigned. 

“Good, because trust me, I am no friend to the Lucians.” His mouth twists, and there it is, that self-same dislike that twists his features into something vaguely sinister. “And I would be most aggrieved if the man I have  _ personally selected _ to aid me in bringing about their downfall thinks otherwise.” 

Ravus is beginning to get a headache, his muscles tense from standing at attention and from his uncertainty at how the Chancellor will punish him. Ravus knows well enough how the Empire disciplines its own, be they in the army or no. “I do not think you some spy or harboring Lucian sympathies, Your Excellency. If I did, I would have long ago voiced such concerns to the appropriate individuals.” 

“Would you, I wonder,” the Chancellor says, and waves a hand before Ravus can argue. “Then I must surmise it is the second, which is that you honestly believe that my plan shall fail and therefore you have no faith that I can keep your sister from being given in marriage to the Crown Prince of Lucis.” 

“I am a military man, Lord Chancellor,” Ravus says, choosing his words carefully. He’s never been very good at politicking; Izunia, on the other hand, excels at it. “It is my nature to think in terms of potential weaknesses.” 

“I am aware of that, and perfectly willing and able to address those with you, but you haven’t seen fit to  _ share  _ these potential foibles with me, have you?” Chancellor Izunia reaches up and pats him on the side of his face. It’s likely intended to be insulting. It is. “But you know, Ravus, I think that’s not it at all.” 

It takes all of Ravus’s ingrained self-preservation not to shove Izunia’s hand away or go for his sword. He’s endured far worse than a pat on the cheek, but there’s something incredibly off-putting about the Chancellor’s fingers on his skin. 

“I think there’s another reason. Would you like me to tell you what it is?” 

Ravus is almost certain that the real answer to this question is  _ no _ , but what can he say? His two options are to accuse the Imperial Chancellor of being a traitor, or imply he’s incompetent. But he can’t quite make himself say  _ yes _ , though apparently Izunia doesn’t need him to as he’s talking again. 

“The sticking point seems to be the nuptials between your fair sister and Prince Noctis. Dare I say you’re jealous?” 

“What?” Ravus actually laughs at that, though the sound is as bitter and cold as day-old coffee. “I have no desire to marry Noctis Lucis Caelum.” 

“No,” Chancellor Izunia says, and his smile turns cruel. “I didn’t mean to imply you were jealous of your  _ sister. _ ” 

It takes Ravus a few seconds to understand what he’s hearing. And the moment he does, he loses all sense of propriety, self-preservation and common sense and goes for his sword. “How  _ dare  _ you imply --” 

He stops, looking down. Chancellor Izunia is suddenly  _ right there,  _ holding Ravus’s wrist in an impossibly tight grip and keeping him from drawing his sword. “Let’s not do that.” 

“I do not -- she’s my  _ sister _ ,” Ravus hisses, pulling, and how is it possible that Chancellor Izunia is so strong? “Would you unhand me,” he snaps. 

“Let me make something clear to you,” Chancellor Izunia says, doing the opposite of letting him go, giving a sharp tug to Ravus’s wrist to bring him closer. “You  _ will  _ present my plan to the Emperor. I am giving you a chance to take credit for what will be the closing gambit in this pointless war, and you’re dragging your feet because you don’t want your sister engaged to Noctis. And that’s because you harbor feelings for her, don’t you?” 

“I --” Ravus is suffused by a blind rage so strong that he can barely form words. 

“I was there, you know,” the Chancellor continues, so close that Ravus can feel his breath on his face. “When your sister ascended as Oracle. I find such ceremonies boring and my thoughts on the gods are decidedly less than pious, so I found myself watching  _ you _ instead of your sister. You stared at her as though she were something precious.” 

“She is, she is the Oracle and my  _ sister,  _ my only remaining family,” Ravus hisses. “Unhand me, Chancellor Izunia. At  _ once _ .” 

“Call me Ardyn, won’t you?” Izunia’s smile is serpentine-slow and full of malice. “And you needn’t make such a fuss, Ravus. You’re hardly the first to find your sibling attractive in a way that defies the laws of both nature and man.” 

Ravus exhales sharply through his nose. There’s an odd note in Izunia’s -- Ardyn’s -- voice, but he ignores it in favor of the denial that springs quickly to his lips. “My sister is simply too good to be  _ wasted  _ on that brat Noctis,” he snaps. “You swear this marriage will never come to be, but you’re also, for whatever reason, unwilling to present this plan of yours to the Emperor yourself, despite being so certain it will be a success  _ and  _ despite having his ear in all things. You don’t strike me as a man who enjoys sharing the limelight,  _ Ardyn _ , so why involve me at all?” 

Ardyn laughs, and the sound causes all the hair on Ravus’s neck to rise in warning. “I will see Lucis fall and you may be certain of that. It is admittedly far more advantageous to me if you suggest this plan to the Emperor but your sister belongs to the Empire, and frankly, she can be ordered to comply if it is necessary. So perhaps I really do mean to offer you something you want, Ravus, and you should be far more  _ grateful  _ that I’ve bothered to do so at all.” 

“I’m -- I’m not --” Ravus can’t think, he’s still reeling from hearing someone voice his darkest, most shameful desire so easily, like it’s nothing. “There is no need to coerce me, or -- or say these things and suggest such -- such untoward and --”

Ardyn lifts one hand and examines his nails. “Oh, stop. You want to fuck her. Just admit it. It certainly doesn’t bother  _ me _ , though you may wish to keep those desires to yourself. To imply you wanted to take your sister to bed would be quite bad for your career, considering how much the other officers dislike you.” 

Ardyn is, of course, making it very clear that if Ravus doesn’t do what he wants, he’ll make sure the other officers  _ do  _ find out -- and they might not like Ardyn but they  _ despise  _ Ravus, and they would no doubt jump on the chance to spread any such rumor. It makes Ravus feel sick to think about. 

“It’s a lie,” Ravus snarls. “And if you want to know the truth, then fine, here it is. My sister  _ loves  _ that coward’s son and when the marriage doesn’t happen, it will break her foolish heart, and she has suffered  _ enough _ .” To admit this is difficult, but not nearly as much as considering that someone might have guessed the feelings he has kept so strongly under lock and key since first he knew they were wrong. 

“You might have led with that,” Ardyn says, clearly unimpressed. “And perhaps I would have believed it was the only reason you are stalling. But Ravus, to put your sister and her feelings ahead of your oaths to the Empire...well, I don’t need to be part of the army to have you arrested for treason. Especially when you nearly drew a weapon on me, in my own  _ residence _ . And where would that leave dear Lady Lunafreya, especially once Lucis is no more and her beloved lies dead in the rubble of fair Insomnia? A trophy for the conquering General, perhaps?” 

Glauca, the man who killed their mother, left to do whatever he wanted with Ravus’s sister? 

“What do you want of me?” Ravus asks, forcing his hand away from his sword and digging his nails into his palm. He wants the pain to center him but it’s too muted, barely registering, like pinching himself in a dream. 

“As I told you before, I want you to bring up the matter with your sister. Gain her approval. Coming from you, she will have to believe it is the truth and not a ruse.  _ That  _ will ensure Lucis has no way of preparing for our attack.”

“My sister is not in contact with Noctis Lucis Caelum,” Ravus protests. “She could not warn the Lucians if she wanted to.” Of course that’s why Ardyn wants him to the be the one to do this. Lunafreya might question his allegiance to the Empire, but she has always believed Ravus to be pure of heart, like her. Like he was, once, before the flames taught him otherwise. 

Lunafreya will believe Ravus, and the populace -- Lucians and Niflheimians alike -- will believe the Oracle. 

“If you believe that, you are not nearly as clever as I’ve given you credit for. But it does not matter. All we need is for the plan to be set in motion, and the Lucian king will hardly turn away an advantageous marriage, a chance for peace, and to give his son a wife who adores him.” Ardyn’s voice turns cajoling, soft, and he finally lets go of Ravus’s wrist to stroke his hair. “Give me your allegiance, Ravus. I care not that you want her -- why, once Lucis is fallen, you can have her. Marry her yourself, if you want.” 

Ravus winces, trying to pull away as a sick thrill races down his spine, electric and mortifying. “No, stop, I -- I don’t want that.” 

“But you do,” Ardyn continues, as his fingers slide down to Ravus’s chin, tilting his face up. Ardyn’s expression is all false sympathy, his eyes still cold and faintly mocking. “Do you want her willing, I wonder? Or unwilling, forced to endure as you climb on top of her? Which is it that you think about, at night, when she is sleeping safe in her bed and you lie tormented with lust a few doors away? You can tell me, Ravus. I shan’t tell a soul, you’ve my word.” 

“No,” Ravus whispers, shaking his head. He’s moving, somehow, he can feel it -- Ardyn is walking him backward and Ravus is clinging to him, unsure if he’s trying to hold himself steady or keep his distance. “I don’t want to hurt her. I’ve never wanted to hurt her.” 

“So you want her willing, coming into your room at night and sliding into bed with you, already wet from thoughts of how you will touch her? Of course, that’s much better than having someone all stoic and resigned beneath you, isn’t it?” Ardyn makes a soothing sound, and Ravus knows this is all a lie but there’s something so horrifyingly attractive about someone  _ knowing _ this thing, this terrible, unwanted and awful  _ thing _ , this desire that’s plagued him for so long that he does not remember what it was like to be without it. 

Knowing it, and speaking it out loud, giving it voice like it has any right to exist. “How do you make her come, Ravus, when you take her?” 

“Stop,” Ravus entreats desperately, fingers shaking as they curl into the fabric of Ardyn’s coat. He feels lost, adrift in some turbulent sea, unsure if Ardyn is a lifeboat meant to save him or a monster straight from the deep, intent on dragging him under the water to drown. 

“With your fingers, or your mouth? I imagine it’s the latter. You can’t say the things you feel for her, but you can do that, can feel her shake and tremble, taste her on your tongue….” 

Ravus’s back hits the wall, and Ardyn leans down to kiss him, though he stops just shy of it and barely touches his mouth to Ravus’s. “They would all hate you if they knew. But  _ I  _ don’t hate you.” Ardyn’s lips are as cold as his fingers, but the inside of his mouth is warm as a flame. Ardyn’s cock is hard as he rubs it lazily against Ravus’s own. “I don’t mind that you want to make her come on your mouth, then slide between her slick thighs and take her, make her yours, because you’ve always loved her the most, haven’t you? More than anyone else?” 

It’s every dark thought, every sick delicious fantasy that Ravus has suffered at night like some weighty, terrible prayer. “Yes,” he whispers, so softly. “Yes, damn you,  _ yes. _ ” 

“She’s so very beautiful, and yours, and I promise you, Ravus, do as I say and he will never put his hands on her, never  _ defile  _ her.” Ardyn kisses at his neck, and Ravus tilts his head, shuddering at the touch. “She’ll be untouched, all yours, waiting for you and your cock to show her how much you love her, how much you’ve always loved her.” 

Ravus feels sick and ashamed, and his cock is so hard it  _ aches _ . “Ardyn, stop,” he begs, but it’s a weak protest even to his own ears. Ravus’s hips push back, tentative, rubbing his cock against Ardyn’s, which is just as hard, as if hearing Ravus fall apart is what Ardyn has wanted all along. “Don’t say these things, please...“ 

_ Please say these things. Please say them because I cannot.  _

“I understand, Ravus. I understand that you suffer the ache of unnatural desires,” Ardyn says, and something about the way he sounds...it seems as if it’s the first honest thing he’s ever said in Ravus’s presence. “But I will never judge you for them. You can whisper all your secrets in my ear.” Ardyn nips at his neck, kisses it, all cold lips and hot tongue and terrible, wonderful words. “I’ll keep them safe, in the dark.” 

Ravus closes his eyes, trembling. “I’ve -- tried to fight it. I’ve been with others, but it never -- it never works, it doesn’t go away, I still want, I still  _ want _ ….” 

“Of course it doesn’t,” Ardyn murmurs, fingers making short work of Ravus’s coat and belt. Ravus feels the slide of the sword as it's cast aside, the weight of the leather lifting from his shoulders as Ardyn strips him bare of everything; weapon and clothes and secrets alike. “It is a terrible thing to bear such a burden.” He kisses Ravus again, hand resting lightly at the base of Ravus’s throat. He squeezes a little, just enough to be threatening in a way that makes Ravus's knees weak, that gets a low growl of arousal from Ardyn as he does it again, and again. “Come to bed with me. You can tell me all the terrible things you dream of doing, and I’ll make you feel so very good while you do it, and then you can see your sister and for once those urges will be sated enough that they won’t drive you mad.” 

Even as caught up in this as he is, Ravus knows Ardyn is playing him, expertly, like the woman who used to come to play the harp for parties at Fenestala when he was younger. But he can’t find it in himself to fight, lets himself be played and plucked as surely as the harpist with her strings. Ardyn takes him by the hand into a bedroom, and Ravus allows Ardyn to finish stripping him, half-aware that he’s in bed with the Imperial Chancellor and half-caught in his desperate fantasies of his sister. 

Ardyn sheds his own clothes, and it’s a bit like watching some mythical creature change form in front of him -- bereft of all that fabric and patterns and clash of color, Ardyn is well-built and broad-shouldered, more like a soldier than a politician. His eyes are still as cold as his hands, but he feels so good when he crawls on top of Ravus, like a cool bath on heated skin. 

“I don’t -- this isn’t what I want,” Ravus says, some last-ditch effort to retain his sense of self, to be the man he’s spent the last decade trying so very hard to become. “Not her, not you, I want  _ vengeance,  _ I want to watch Insomnia burn, I want to see Noctis dead at my feet.”

_ Want her on her back, my face caught between her soft thighs --  _

“Oh, yes,” Ardyn says, voice heated, and kisses him. “Insomnia will burn, Ravus, and you will be there to see it, to feel the flames. And all you have to do is what I say, obey me, can you do that? Tell me you can do that, that’s it,” he urges, and he’s all over Ravus, hands and mouth, his cock hard and wet with precome.

Yes, he can, but he doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to know that he’s going to break Lunafreya’s heart, wants to be the champion she deserves and not the sick, twisted thing he is that will bring her nothing but heartache and ruin. But maybe if she could see for herself, finally, that Noctis and his father are useless cowards.. then maybe she would thank him for showing her the truth, maybe she would love him like he loves her, maybe she would  _ want  _ him, too, maybe she -- 

\-- “....will come to you, begging your forgiveness for doubting you,” Ardyn is saying, kissing down Ravus’s stomach while Ravus writhes on the bed. “Tell you that you saved her, take you in your mouth and worship your cock, give you what you have always deserved, always wanted --”

_ Lunafreya on her knees, his cock in her mouth, staring up at him and there’s no longer any recrimination in her eyes, only love, and he’s good enough for her, finally, better than Noctis could ever be.  _

“...yes, so much better,” Ardyn murmurs, and for a moment it sounds like it really is Lunafreya’s voice speaking. Ravus can’t think past the pleasure of Ardyn’s mouth ( _ Lunafreya’s mouth _ ) his hands are in Ardyn’s ( _ Lunafreya’s _ ) hair and he’s going to come, he’s so close -- 

Ardyn is staring up at Ravus but his eyes aren’t cold anymore and there’s darkness there, too, filling up the white so that Ardyn’s eyes burn like -- 

_ blessed stars of light and life --  _

“Go ahead and think of her, when I make you come,” Ardyn says, tongue doing terrible, sinful, wonderful things to the head of his cock. His hand is between Ravus’s legs, his fingers pressing against Ravus’s hole, teasing and slipping just a bit inside. “I don’t mind. In fact, I want you to.” 

Ravus closes his eyes, runs his fingers through his sister’s beautiful fair hair, and gives in. 

***

When he comes, Ravus says his sister’s name and hears it echo in the Chancellor’s bedroom like a bell. 

 

***

“Ravus!” Lunafreya smiles at him, but there’s a look of surprise on her face as she hurries to greet him when he disembarks from the airship. “I didn’t think you’d be back again so soon-- is everything all right?” 

“Yes,” Ravus says. His voice is steady, even. He takes his sister’s hands in his and smiles at her. She looks as lovely as flower standing there before him, the breeze teasing her hair around her face. “I’ve some news. There is a chance we may be able to at last put an end to this war, Lunafreya, but it requires you to agree to a political marriage.” 

He sees the sudden wariness in her expression, feels the slight tension in her fingers as they curl into his own. “A political marriage? Me? I -- to whom am I to agree to marry?” 

Ravus stares into her eyes, clear blue like the sky overhead. “Prince Noctis,” he says, and watches as her smile lights up her face like the sun, and Ravus feels nothing, nothing at all. 


End file.
